


A Long Way From Home

by this_is_how_we_get_ants



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Assassin Winter Soldier, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Avengers Tension, Blood, Bucky Barnes Returns, Canon Divergence, Death, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, HYDRA science, Human Experimentation, Hydra (Marvel), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medical Inaccuracies, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nazis, Other, POV Multiple, Past Relationship(s), Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Swearing, Team Dynamics, Violence, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, questionable medicine, questionable science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4343420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_how_we_get_ants/pseuds/this_is_how_we_get_ants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky Barnes suddenly appears at SHIELD headquarters to surrender, a complicated web of events begin to unfold. Struggling with their own team dynamics, The Avengers must determine where Bucky's loyalties really lie. What secrets from his dark past are coming back for him?<br/>                                                         **UPDATE** Revised as of 5/19/16!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mysterious stranger shows up at SHIELD headquarters...

_Now_

“Captain Rogers, sir, we have a situation at the main entrance.”

Steve stepped away from the newest SHIELD recruits that he had been training and spoke into his comms unit, “What is it?”

“There is an unknown approaching the building from the woods.”

“What?” Steve sighed, “I’ll be right there, just…don’t do anything.”

_

A lone figure approached the modern building that housed SHIELD’s new headquarters. It hadn’t been an easy journey; SHIELD was even harder to locate these days. The idyllic country setting of their new ultra-modern building was both beautiful and jarring. The woods that surrounded the area had been difficult to navigate since there were hidden traps and security alarms everywhere. But none of that mattered now. Now, he was facing the lesser of two evils in order to save what was left of his soul.

_

Steve bustled into the dark, computer filled room. “What’s going on?” he asked the man monitoring the feeds.

As he entered, the man quickly shoved a bag of what looked a lot like Doritos out of sight. The agent nervously wiped his fingers on his pants leaving trails of orange dust. He looked anxiously at Steve before rolling his chair closer to the monitors on the right side. He pointed a finger, still bearing the telltale orange signs of his snack, at the computer screens that watched over the main entrance.

“Right there, sir. He came out of the trees, and he’s just been standing there like that since I called you,” he rambled. “None of our security picked him up in the woods. It’s like he came out of nowhere.”

Steve nodded absently and motioned for the SHIELD agent to scoot aside so he could see the monitor. He leaned in to have a look and could see the figure, a man wearing a black hat pulled low over his face. Squinting, Steve leaned in closer to the monitor. “Can you zoom in?” he asked the agent who was peering over his shoulder.

“Yes sir,” he said, immediately pressing several buttons to focus the image closer.

Steve leaned in close to see the zoomed in image. “ _No_ ,” he whispered. He abruptly turned on his heel, and disappeared from the room.

“Uh, sir should I notify anyone?” the agent called after him. There was no response. The agent leaned back in his chair. Luckily, Steve had left the door to the room wide open. At that moment a familiar agent was passing by.

“Agent Romanoff?” he called. The woman paused, turning her attention to the dimly lit room, “Yes?”

“Uh, Captain, um, Rogers just went out to face an unknown intruder on the front lawn. I just, um, thought maybe he could use some backup? You know, just in case,” he stammered.

“Got it,” Agent Romanoff replied marching away.

_

Steve raced through the building, dodging the seemingly endless amount of agents in his path. He couldn’t believe what he had seen on that monitor. After all this time, to just show up at SHIELD’s doorstep? It didn’t make sense. _What was Bucky Barnes doing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are reunited...

The doors to the building burst open. Bucky clenched his fists and quickly released them. Sweat was coating his entire body, and he was beginning to feel a bit dizzy. When he returned his eyes to the man advancing on him, the familiarity hit him harder than he’d expected. Memories tried to squeeze past his defenses to play a nightmarish medley for him. He swallowed hard and forced the unbidden and unwelcome thoughts away. Now was not the time.

Steve was in front of him in no time at all. Bucky silently met his searching gaze. The once familiar blue eyes were alien to him now, changed by the years. He steeled himself for whatever was coming next.

Steve stood over him for a moment wordlessly glowering at Bucky. Finally he seemed to remember himself. His eyes darted briefly to the tree line, as if looking for hidden figures waiting to strike.

“Bucky?” he finally said.

“Captain Rogers.”

A redheaded woman was exiting the building now. She had the shrewd look of a seasoned agent. Her hand was on the gun at her hip, as she evaluated the situation in front of her. Bucky recognized her from the last time he had tangled with SHIELD. Another sudden memory flashed into Bucky’s mind triggering a wince.

The woman was with a man. He, The Winter Soldier, had been tasked with eliminating the man. Visions of gunfire and then blood; hers and the man she had been protecting. She lay on the ground clutching her wound and firing back towards her unknown assailant. Next to her, her charge lay motionless sporting a hole in his forehead. Bucky had walked away feeling nothing at all; not a scratch on him from the encounter.

“Cap? Everything OK here?” she called out.

Bucky shook away the tendrils of memory still clinging to his mind. His eyes darted back and forth between Steve and the woman. A single stripe of cold sweat slithered down his spine as he waited for Steve’s answer.

Steve’s shoulders tensed for a moment before he turned slightly to acknowledge the woman. “It’s…” his voice trailed off.

She was next to him in another breath. Her expression betrayed nothing, but Bucky didn’t miss the way her body was coiled, ready to strike if necessary.

After a wordless staring contest, the woman finally turned her head slightly away from Bucky. The redhead arched an eyebrow. She looked to Steve, as if for an explanation. Steve spluttered, and finally just shook his head never moving his eyes from Bucky.

Bucky could see that they had begun to draw a crowd. Several more bodies had appeared from inside the building, most were keeping their distance. One man pushed through the pack and strode towards them.

“What’s this?” the man questioned as he reached the small group.

The woman simply said, “Winter Soldier,” she gestured towards Bucky where he was still kneeling on the grass.

“ _The_ Winter Soldier?” the man’s eyes grew almost comically large. “Nat?” he turned an expression of disbelief in the woman’s direction.

She shrugged in response, “I think we should take this inside, boys.”

Steve seemed to notice the gathering crowd for the first time, his expression slightly dazed. He nodded in response.

To Bucky he said, “Keep your hands behind your head.”

Bucky obeyed the order without a word. He stood utterly still as the shorter man patted him down and removed the two guns and the dagger from his person; he was less heavily armed than usual in preparation for the occasion. Together the four of them turned towards the building. Steve had a steel grip on Bucky’s arm, but Bucky had no inclinations to fight him.

As they approached the front door, the shorter man shooed the spectators out of the way. “Nothing to see here!” he yelled causing everyone to scuttle away.

Suddenly the sound of a loud engine ripped through the otherwise mostly quiet air. Bucky instinctively whirled his head around toward the noise, his hackles rising. A flashy sports car was tearing up the driveway. A man with dark hair and a goatee sat behind the wheel. He pulled up right behind them and cut the engine before hopping nimbly out of the vehicle. Bucky couldn’t help but notice the keys left dangling in the ignition.

Dust clouded the air, causing the others to cough and fan it away. Though he tried to repress it, Bucky felt a cough ripple up through his own body. Sweat gathered in response to his internal struggle, but he managed to hold it together.

“What did I miss? This looks like a fun little party!” The sports car driver’s eyes drifted over the group and landed on Bucky’s. “Holy shit! Sorry, Cap,” he shot Steve a grin that undermined his cheeky apology. “So what brings the Winter Soldier to this neck of the woods? Enjoying a nature walk, maybe some bird watching?”

Steve scowled at the man, and tightened his grip on Bucky.

Natasha spoke up, “Stark, we’re kind of right in the middle of something. Save the twenty questions routine for when we have him inside and secured.”

Stark raised his hands in a universal by-all-means gesture. Although Steve jerked him back around, Bucky could feel Stark tracing their footsteps.

Howard Stark’s son was not what Bucky had expected. Or maybe he was exactly what Bucky had expected. He thought again wistfully of the beautiful car with keys waiting in its ignition.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's bothering Bucky? ...

Bucky sat nervously in an interrogation room. The overwhelming whiteness of the space was making him feel jittery. No one had been in to see him since he had been informally deposited into the metal chair. They had searched him and given him a pair of plain black scrubs. Without his long sleeves and gloves, his metal arm was now on full display.

Finally he was alone. His lungs were still straining, the slight snag in his breath remained. The sweat covering his body was starting to cool, and he fought against the urge to shiver. He was dizzy and exhausted, and that was making it hard to remain as alert as he preferred to be.

He had no idea how long he had been in this room. Time was proving to be elusive to him, and he couldn’t seem to keep track of it. There was no clock anywhere in the stark room, so he just waited. He attempted to keep his mind occupied processing his surroundings.

All of the white was starting to make his eyes hurt: the white walls, white tiles, white table. The only variety in the color scheme were the silver cuffs and chains holding him secure, the shiny metal of his left arm, and the contrasting flesh tone of his other. There was a large window directly in front of him, flanked by cameras. Maybe they were just standing in there watching him, enjoying his twitching.

Memories had been poking at the back of his mind. They had been getting increasingly persistent, and he was now fighting off an intense headache. One particular memory slipped through his defenses.

 

_Long, pale, blond hair, blue eyes made for getting lost in. A blade glinting under harsh light, the indescribable sound of flesh and bone being severed, and the blood; there had been so much blood. He could see the thick ruby red liquid ooze slowly down the arm of the grimy chair. It slipped lazily into a graceful dive to the cement floor. A pool of red reflected his face, his hand holding the bloodied knife._

 

Bucky jerked violently out of the memory. He could feel the sickly stickiness of sweat all over his body, his headache raged with renewed vigor. All he could see was blood; the white room was replaced with red. He frantically tried to look away from it, to escape it, but it was everywhere. New trails of sweat burned over his flesh. Nausea had decided to join the excruciating pulsing of his brain and spasming of his lungs for a tormenting waltz inside of him. Too many sensations spread through his fatigued body.

He couldn’t hold it back anymore as a wave of overwhelming nausea swelled inside of him. Abruptly he was leaning to the side, vomiting on the pristine white floors. It triggered a chain reaction that he had been trying to avoid. But it was far too late now. Violent, wet coughs racked his body in between retching. Finally he was able to take a series of shaky breaths, and he looked in dismay at the ground. There was blood on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter- the action will pick up soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's back, but what is he hiding?

His head was spinning. Crimson blood. Blue eyes. The blade coated in the rich red liquid. His eyes felt hot, and his body felt chilled.

Visions of that dreaded chair in the dingy underground room rushed into his mind. Adrenaline burst through his veins. Acute focus pushed away the hammering inside his skull. His breath came rapidly. Inside his chest, his heart was beating too fast. _Gotta get out of here! Gotta get out of here! Getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!_

The whiteness of the room was blinding, he reared his head back away from the assault against his retinas. He squinted against it, trying to get his bearings. Too much; it was too much. His muscles strained. Panicking, he pulled against the restraint holding his metal arm. It only took a few yanks before it pulled free, allowing him to make quick work of the rest of the chains.

He was on his feet in seconds. Wiping the sweat off his palms, he glanced to the window. They were watching him. He knew they were, could feel their greedy eyes evaluating his performance. _Gotta get out!_

Fire suddenly burning him from the inside out caused him to stumble. He tripped and fell to his knees. There was a wild keening sound that he distantly realized he had made. But he couldn’t focus on that. The nausea was back, and despite the fact that there was nothing left in his stomach, he found himself heaving. Tears fell involuntarily from his eyes as he struggled against the sickness. He swiped a hand across his mouth only to look down and see it painted red.

Sickly sweat stuck to his skin, he could feel a rivulet making its way down his temple as he swayed violently and fell over. The walls around him seemed to pulse, in and out. He could feel the floor shifting wildly beneath him. Silent tears blurred his vision as he retched again, gagging slightly. Inside his chest, the muscle squeezed harder, continuing its relentless sprint to an unseen goal.

He heard voices. Suddenly there were people in front of him and behind him. Once again he had failed. They had gotten to him. He’d been too weak to even run.

_Fight!_

He swung out drunkenly against his blurry foes.

“ _Mother_ -!” he heard when his metal arm collided with human softness.

He could feel strong arms lifting him off of the floor. A whine escaped him as he was separated from the cool surface. “Bucky! Stop it! Calm down! Buck, it’s OK. You’re gonna be OK. I’ve got you.”

 _What?_ That voice sounded familiar. His head careened wildly between the scenes in front of him like a funhouse slideshow. He felt the all too familiar prick of a needle sliding into his neck.

He lurched forward into a hard chest. The dizziness was fast being joined by darkness.

_

The room was silent, save for the machines attached to Bucky. Everyone was silent, lost in their own thoughts after the unexpected scene in the interrogation room.

Bucky’s prone form lay limply strapped down on a cot in the medical wing. His sweat-soaked clothes had been switched out in favor of a fresh set of black SHIELD standard-issue scrubs. Even Tony had been appropriately silent when Bucky lay practically naked, all his pain exposed. Scar tissue spread out over his skin like constellations. Most disturbing of all was the raised ring of scar tissue surrounding the juncture at his shoulder where the metal met flesh. After all the time that had undoubtedly passed since his operation it still looked angry.

Steve couldn’t help but feel disturbed by the condition his old friend was in. The scars were bad enough, but it was more than that. He had never seen Bucky sick like this before. It had always been Steve who was ill. Now, their positions were surreally reversed and it was Steve who sat looking down at a feverish Bucky.

Constant beeping emanated from one of the machines attached to Bucky, lest anyone forget that his pulse was too quick for someone who had just been heavily sedated. Sweat was still visible on his face, and every time he breathed there was a rattling sound. His expression looked tortured, even in unconsciousness.

A slight movement in his peripheral vision caused Steve to look back down at Bucky. Bucky’s flesh hand twitched. With no more warning than that, he suddenly gasped like someone who had just been resuscitated after drowning. Everyone started in surprise, except for Natasha; it had only been 20 minutes since they had sedated him, _heavily_.

Bucky’s eyes flitted around the room. His overall appearance was rather animalistic; his shoulder length hair was mussed, his eyes looked like a hawk’s taking in everything, except they were glassy with fever. He looked like a predator unused to being the prey. Wildly, he yanked at the bonds securing him, but after the interrogation room, they had gotten smarter and secured him more heavily to compensate for the strength of his metal arm.

He rasped something unintelligible urgently, his eyes roving around. His turbulent gaze settled on Steve briefly, before cutting to Tony and focusing on the white lab coat he wore. Whatever he was seeing caused him to make a high-pitched sound of distress as he continued to struggle against his restraints.

“Bucky, it’s OK,” Steve said, trying to calm the beast.

“What is Bucky? Let me out! You can’t make me forget again! I’ll kill myself first, I swear!” he screamed his words jarring in their sudden clarity.

The Avengers in the room exchanged wary glances. Tony started to step forward, which caused Bucky to thrash harder.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t- AUGH!” his body twisted unnaturally.

No one made a move. The room was silent, aside from Bucky’s frantic writhing and the monitor dutifully beeping out his increasingly erratic heartbeat.

Agony twisted Bucky’s features as he continued to tremble and whimper, tears sliding down his face.

And then the movements stopped with one last spasm. Bucky was still again, Natasha standing over him with a spent needle in her hand. She raised an eyebrow at the men standing uselessly around her.

“Well, someone had to do something.”

No one argued with her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when it seemed like Bucky was back...

Bucky hadn’t woken up again. Steve had been holding vigil at his friend’s side for what could have been hours or even days. He watched as Bucky’s chest rose and fell, the slight catch in his breath harsh in Steve’s ears. The only other sound was the steady beeping of the heart monitor. It had evened out, no longer erratic. But that seemed to be the only good news.

Tony slipped into the lab frowning at the StarkPad in his hands. He glanced up at Steve with a nod before moving over to the machines hooked up to Bucky’s unconscious form. Steve watched as Tony looked back and forth between the tablet and the monitors. A furrow of worry was gathering between Tony’s brows, and Steve felt his pulse pick up slightly.

The doors opened again, and Steve turned to see Natasha, Clint, and Sam filing into the space. None of them said anything. Steve’s eyes darted between Bucky, Tony, and the other three Avengers. Finally Tony sighed and set the tablet down. He exchanged a look with Natasha before focusing his attention on Steve.

“So, there’s good news and bad news. I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you the bad news first. Your pal’s in a coma,” Tony took a deep breath, “The good news is that his vitals are currently stable.”

Steve stared at Tony. “A coma?”

Tony nodded, “I had Dr. Cho take a look at the data I’ve collected on him, _anonymously_ , and she didn’t have an answer for what exactly was causing the coma. It doesn’t seem to be connected to his brain, which is odd, I think. She’s gonna look into it some more, but for right now all we can do is monitor him and keep him comfortable.”

Steve flinched, “You make it sound like he’s dying.”

“No!” Tony cleared his throat, “I mean, he’s stable right now. Comas are really tricky, Steve. They’re pretty unpredictable, especially when you don’t know the cause,” he paused, eyeing Steve carefully, “It might help if we brought Dr. Cho in to have a look at him.”

Steve looked down at Bucky’s sleeping form. He nodded slowly, “OK. Whatever you have to do to help him, do it.”

Tony nodded, “I’ll go talk to her,” he said, but he didn’t move from his seat.

“We found something when we were going through Bucky’s stuff,” Sam said.

“What?” Steve tried to keep his voice neutral.

Sam produced a small diary. “A lot of it is in Russian and German, but we’re working on that,” he glanced at Natasha who nodded. “There’re a few things, though…” Sam looked to Natasha again. “He has all of our names with lists, like things he knows about us, I guess. Yours is the longest.”

“There are a few names here that we don’t know,” Natasha took the journal from Sam and handed it to Steve, pointing to a short list.

_Adeline_

_Twins- girl & boy? _

_Mutated DNA- super serum?_

_Siberia_

~~_W. Virginia_ ~~

~~_Slupsk_ ~~

~~_Bautzen_ ~~

_Nunavut_

Steve stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. He glanced up at his teammates. “What does it mean?”

“We don’t know,” Clint shrugged.

“The first one appears to be a name,” Sam said.

“There are a lot of places listed. It seems like maybe he was looking for this Adeline person.” Tony had taken the journal from Steve to look at it. “Could the twins thing be about Wanda and Pietro?”

“Maybe,” Sam looked at Clint who lifted a shoulder.

“I’m going to work on translating the rest of the writing,” Natasha said.

“OK,” Steve nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Steve, you should get some rest,” Sam put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Steve’s eyes slid back to Bucky’s face.

“Fine,” he let himself be led out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, two of HYDRA's most valued agents had their first meeting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first flashback chapter!

_Then_

The room glowed with affluence. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling and matching sconces from the walls. Heavily gilded frames encased rich oil paintings. Large tapestries covered opposing walls in their jewel-toned threads. Marble tile gleamed beneath the well-shod feet congregating on its surface, gray veins traveling through the tile. Imposing oak doors with ornately carved coat of arms on each were held open, revealing the wealthy revelers within the cavernous ballroom. A rainbow of silks swirling around; the women were enjoying the luxury of silk dresses that they had been denied for so long.

Adeline stood on the threshold of the room. An ethereal song featuring the string section floated through the air. Snatches of conversations drifted out from within along with tinkling laughter and the clicking of heels on the tile. She lifted her chin, pushed back her shoulders and glided forward.

Eyes all around the space turned to observe her entrance: some surreptitiously, others openly and unabashed. She floated over to the nearest waiter, who stood frozen with his champagne tray held out in offering. She noticed a small stripe of what appeared to be lipstick peeking out of his collar. Sparing a small smile for him, Adeline helped herself to a bubbling glass of the crisp golden liquid.

She adjusted the diamond bracelet on her right hand, before turning her attention to the crowd around her. Her eyes scanned the space slowly, taking in the various fashionable gowns and distinguished military medals adorning the other guests. It didn’t take her long to pick out the mark.

It was child’s play how easily she caught his eye and ducked her own gaze down, willing a blush onto her cheeks. Through her eyelashes she could see him separating from his companions. He wound his way eagerly through the party-goers, never taking his steely gray eyes off of her for long.

He moved swiftly and surely, with a practiced military gait that exuded authority. His gray hair shone under the lights of the ballroom. His mustache twitched under a smirk. There was an impressive collection of ribbons and medals adorning his dress uniform. Naturally, everything about him was spotless, not a thread out of place.

“Hello, love,” a rumbling voice greeted her.

Up close she could discern more signs of his age. The skin of his neck sagged slightly, and wrinkles crisscrossed over his forehead, most heavily concentrated between his bushy brows, and sprouted from the corners of his mouth. It appeared he had not spent an abundance of time smiling. He sported neatly trimmed nails, but his hands were dotted with liver spots, protruding veins, and wiry white hair. Large jeweled rings occupied two of his wrinkled fingers and a shining gold signet sat proudly on his pinky.

She looked up and smiled shyly, “Good evening, General.”

“Ah, yes, beautiful and smart, too!” he sounded as though he was praising a pet.

A waiter swished past them, and the General took her champagne flute and set it on the tray.

She tilted her head questioningly at him, looking up through lowered lashes.

“We can’t have your hands full if we’re going to dance, now can we?” the patronizing tone continued.

“Of course not,” she smiled demurely and extended her hand, allowing him to lead her onto the crowded dance floor.

* * *

 

“My, it certainly is a beautiful evening isn’t it?” the General observed in his dry accent.

Adeline walked with her arm through the General’s as they wound their way along the stone garden path. After allowing him to parade her around under the guise of dancing for what felt like hours, she had finally insisted they get out of the stuffy ballroom for some fresh air.

Now the music wafted softly through the topiaries providing a dreamlike atmosphere. The smell of roses came to her on a soft breeze. Above her, Adeline could see the stars blinking in the empty sky. Her eyes settled on the half-moon before returning to her current companion.

They had reached a large tiered fountain made of the same marble as the ballroom floor, at what appeared to be the center of the garden. Benches made of stone sat on either side of the burbling fixture.

“How lovely!” Adeline exclaimed, turning to smile at the General.

“Yes, indeed,” he replied looking into her eyes.

She fought the urge to shudder or crinkle her nose in disgust at his obviously lecherous thoughts.

“You have the most exquisite eyes, love. Such an interesting color,” he murmured, still staring at her.

Effortlessly, she let out a girlish giggle and batted her eyelashes suggestively. It worked, and she both saw and felt him advancing into her personal space. He was smiling, and she fixated on his gold incisor and the small chip in his top left front tooth.

Before his thin lips could touch hers, however, he made a grunting noise and froze in place. His eyes bulged and a strange gurgle came from his throat.

Adeline stepped back from him, a feeling of relief washing over her, and watched his hand wrap around the phantom blade that had created a hole in his gut. All that was there for him to grab onto know was his own thick blood, which slipped teasingly through his fingers. He looked up at her beseechingly as he dropped to his knees. She stared down at him impassively, watching the deep ruby blood soak through the wool of his uniform. Within the space of a minute or so, he had collapsed onto the ground, his eyes glassy and devoid of life.

“Are you going to confirm the kill? I do not wish to get blood on this silk,” she allowed her German accent to return.

The figure in the shadows shifted slightly, something metallic glinted briefly in the moonlight.

“He’s dead,” a toneless response emanated from the darkness.

“I am sure he is, but you are still going to check,” she crossed her arms over the deep navy fabric of her gown.

There was no movement, but Adeline could still feel his presence weighing down the shadows.

“Anytime you are ready. I do not wish to be discovered here.”

Finally, a man stepped woodenly from the shadows. He was dressed completely in black, and Adeline couldn’t see his face. His heavy boots made no sound on the stones as he stepped over to the General’s corpse. The man dropped onto one knee. As he reached to pull the leather glove from his hand, there was a flash of metal between his other glove and the cuff of his coat.

“Dead.”

Adeline stared at the strange, silent man. His expressionless eyes were rimmed in some dark charcoal-like substance; his hair was wavy and brown and appeared to be growing out from a crew or a buzz cut. He stood erectly, military posture, when he rose up. His gear looked military, too. The black armband with the familiar red insignia caught her eye.

“Hail HYDRA,” she murmured, staring into his eyes.

“Hail HYDRA,” he replied in an American accent before disappearing back into the inky cover of the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What goes on after dark at HYDRA? ...

Things were changing at HYDRA. It was more than just the end of the war. A strange energy buzzed through the air. Ever since that night at the ball, the men in the compound had been bustling around at all hours and speaking in hushed tones. She had been trying to discern their words, but the things they were saying didn’t make any sense. They kept mentioning a soldier, winter, and cybernetic technology.

Her mind wandered to that night several weeks ago; the last time they had sent her out. The feel of the silk against her skin, the sound of her pumps against the polished floors, the overwhelming smells of cologne and perfume and sweat that filled the space; it had felt so rich in all of her senses. She could still hear the many voices and conversations, the laughter and exclamations clearly. It was as if she were there in that ballroom again instead of seated in her cell wearing her wrinkly jumpsuit with the black armband bearing the insignia of her masters.

The smell of roses on the breeze, the soft sound of leaves rustling, the moonlight glinting against the water of the fountain; suddenly the memories shifted to the garden. She inhaled deeply, relaxing against the sights and smells of the night. But then there was another smell more bitter and visceral than the others: blood.

He was there now; the mysterious HYDRA assassin. In her mind, he was the shadows come to life. She remembered how his hair had ruffled in the light breeze, remembered the glimpse of metal that she had seen. Most of all, she remembered the deadness of his eyes.

* * *

 

The thin pillow over her head was not enough to block out the awful sound. More and more often she was awoken in the middle of the night by feral screams emanating from somewhere deep in the compound. Although it had only been moments since it began, it felt as if hours had already passed. Gut wrenching screams carried the primitive sounds of pain through the otherwise still night air. The darkness of her room made the sound even more consuming. Adeline curled in on herself as tightly as she could, desperately twisting the pillow around to cover her ears. It was no use.

This wasn’t even the first night this week that the screams had come. Whoever it was, whatever was happening, it was occurring with increased frequency. She could tell that it was a man; there weren’t any other women around the compound anymore that she was aware of. He would scream himself raw, until the sound morphed into a hoarse cry. It had become her lullaby; a disturbingly comforting refrain in the darkness.

Numbers, letters, symbols. She repeated the chant to herself, and numbers, letters, and symbols flowed through her mind obligingly. Codes, ciphers, facts, and figures danced around in her thoughts arranging themselves into comprehensible patterns. Her body began to relax as her mind fell into the familiar routine. The keening wasn’t gone; it was more guttural now. Soon it would be over. Numbers, letters, symbols.

And suddenly, it was quiet. Just as quickly as the awful sound had filled the air, it was replaced by eerie silence.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HYDRA's two best agents meet again...

The assignment had been to steal the notes of a young French scientist. It had been simple really; she only had to pretend to be in distress. One look at her and the men inside the small cottage were graciously bringing her inside. They were unaware of the shadow that detached from the night to play the uninvited house guest.

Now, she surveyed the violent tableau in front of her. Her mysterious companion from the garden was there in the kitchen with her. No sooner had she entered the cottage than the mysterious HYDRA agent had burst forth bringing with him hell on earth. It took a moment for her to register that the screaming had stopped.

“Did you get what you needed?” the man turned to her briefly, wiping blood spatter off his face.

She nodded mutely. Her mission had been to steal the notes of the young scientist living here. He had been well-protected, so his work was obviously important. However, the notes she had taken read more like a science fiction novel then the work of a highly-valued scholar.

She let her eyes drift around the macabre scene. The old kitchen was painted red. Fingers from a severed arm reached out towards her. A few feet away the rest of the man lay in a pool of his and his fallen comrades’ blood. Next to the front door, one of the men’s forms sat slumped; his throat had been slashed so deeply that his head hung at an unnatural angle nearly separated from the rest of him.

“Unghh,” a grunt emitted from one of the corpses.

She stepped over to the prone man and stomped down on the hand that was weakly reaching for a gun.

The man released a gurgling scream before her fellow agent’s steel-toed boot came down hard on his throat. A sickly crunching sound ended his suffering.

The strange American agent looked up at her and she met his gaze levelly. Something unspoken passed between them before he bent down and retrieved a blade from the chest of the third dead man on the floor.  He proceeded to wipe it off on his pant leg before shoving it back into a sheath on his left thigh. As he moved, Adeline glimpsed the sliver of metal between his sleeve and one of the leather gloves that he wore.

She didn’t have any time to contemplate it, though. The assassin was already slipping out the front door. He stood holding the door open and settled his disquieting gaze on her. Quickly, she made her way across the sticky wooden floor to his waiting form.

* * *

 

The commander smiled contentedly. In front of him the two pod-like metal contraptions stood, their doors now closed. He could still feel a touch of coldness in the air. Frost was beginning to spider over the glass panes at the top of each pod, obscuring the faces inside each of them.

His two best assets: the soldier and the siren. Now they would serve not only him, but his successors in the future. With the information the girl had led them to in France they finally had all of the necessary components to finish the cryogenic cells that would preserve their resources until the time that they were needed.

Since the war was over and Germany was in shambles, HYDRA was taking care to lie low. Captain America and his Howling Commandos had also hit their organization harder than he liked to admit. Losing the Red Skull had meant that the visionary leader behind their institution had been taken from them just when things were coming together. He smiled slightly when he thought about how Captain America had died, too. His eyes went to the male face in one of the matching cells: the Captain had also provided them with a wonderful soldier.

The Soviets were causing stirs in the intelligence community, but he was not worried. They had plenty of agents who had infiltrated the KGB and even the Soviet government. It would hopefully not be necessary to wake the two assets for many years.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes for a relaxing run that turns out to not be as relaxing as he'd hoped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present!

_Now_

Bucky was swimming through the waters of his mind. Memories swirled in and out of focus as he drifted along in unconsciousness. He remembered laughing with his scrawny best friend as kids in Brooklyn. He remembered fidgeting next to his parents at church on Sundays, and he remembered Steve making faces at him during the prayers to try and make him laugh. He remembered his first kiss and how infinite the world had felt to him in those early days.

The memories changed: he remembered putting on his uniform for the first time. He remembered the tears in his mother’s eyes when he left. He remembered the horror of seeing his friends and fellow soldiers felled all around him. He remembered being strapped to a table burning up with a fire worse than any fever. He remembered falling, the crush of bones, the horrible breathlessness, and the greedy hands that had stolen him away from the frozen wastelands that should have been his grave.

He could finally remember things that had been stolen from him for so long. It was wonderful and terrible, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Even the awful memories of pain and death were better remembered than forgotten. And there was more than just the pain. There were memories of happiness, too: both before HYDRA and after.

Bucky wasn’t sure where he was. Perhaps he was finally dead as he should have been that day many years ago when he fell. Wherever he was he was finally at peace. No one was messing with his mind, taking things that did not belong to them. It was so serene here drifting through his memories and remembering the emotions and sensations that had accompanied them. He hoped he never was taken from this place.

_

Steve’s favorite part of the day was his early morning runs. He loved the peace and solitude of being awake and so _alive_ before most of the rest of the world had even had their first cup of coffee. It was such a freeing feeling and now that he didn’t live in a city, he found that it was even better.

The running path that he had found nearby the new headquarters was a simple dirt path that ran through the woods behind the property and eventually ended up alongside a creek that burbled weakly down below him. He loved the sound of the birds calling out to each other in the trees and the feeling of the sun slowly breaking through the foliage to cast ever-shifting patterns. In amongst the trees it was easy to forget about time. It was easier to forget that it wasn’t the 20th century anymore. This was what Steve loved most of all about truly escaping into nature.

Today a soft rain had been falling when he had left the building. Even though he couldn’t feel its feather-light kiss on his skin once he got into the trees, he could hear the soft patter of it against the leaves above. Best of all, he could fill his lungs with the scent of damp green. Petrichor was his favorite scent of all; it was timeless in a way that few things were. He breathed deeply as his feet pounded along.

His mind was running almost as fast as his body. So many things were dogging him. First and foremost were, of course, was Bucky and his health. How long had he been sick like this? What did those words in the journal mean? Who was Adeline?

Steve’s distraction was the only excuse he had for what happened next. One minute he was up and running at a steady pace, the next minute his chin was colliding painfully with the dirt. He pushed himself slowly to his knees, rubbing at his jaw. But just as he was about to get to his feet something pushed down hard on his back.

“Unngh!” Steve grunted.

“Be careful, Captain Rogers. There are many eyes on you.” A voice, he was pretty sure it belonged to a man, whispered hoarsely.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What are you talking about?” Steve demanded.

There was no answer, though. Steve realized that the pressure was gone from his back, too. He rolled over in the dirt, slowly, feeling his scraped up and bloody chin. No one was visible anywhere in the surrounding area. Whoever had jumped him had managed to flee and disappear with unnatural ease and speed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It always gets worse before it gets any better...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I didn't abandon it, guys!:)))

“What do you mean someone from HYDRA jumped you in the woods!” Tony exclaimed, his enthusiastic gesturing almost knocking Clint’s cereal bowl out of his hands.

“Hey! Watch the Wheaties, dude!” Clint wrapped his arm protectively over his bowl from his perch on the countertop.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower he had taken when he returned. He had been covered in dirt from his altercation. The blood on his chin was gone, but he had still applied disinfectant alcohol to them and now his chin was an angry pink color beneath the red marks.

“You didn’t get a good luck at ‘em?” Sam asked from his spot at the island.

“No, he jumped me from behind, and he was strong. Like really strong. And I’m not sure it was HYDRA, Tony. I just said it was a possibility.” Steve gave Tony a stern look.

Clint let out a low whistle.

Steve nodded, rubbing his hands on his special collector’s edition vintage Captain America mug that he’d gotten from Phil when SHIELD had done Secret Santa his first Christmas out of the ice.

“So, I don’t think I need to say this, but who’s to say that American Psycho isn’t in on this?” Tony said.

Steve glared.

“We don’t know anything about this guy, though. Including whether or not he works for HYDRA. I mean, his words could be seen as a warning and not a threat,” Sam countered.

“Touché,” Clint said pointing his spoon at Sam.

“ _Sir, the patient requires your immediate attention_ ,” the voice of Tony’s A.I. system startled everyone.

“What is it?” Tony asked setting down his questionable-looking green smoothie concoction.

“ _The patient has gone into cardiac arrest, sir_.”

_

The screams were too much. Everywhere he turned the faces of the dead confronted him, the faces of _his_ dead. All of them were covered in blood that he had drawn. Wraiths with bloody gaping wounds in their abdomens jumped out of the corners hissing angrily. Mournful phantoms with blood dripping from a hole in their chest stood grasping at their exposed hearts. Dark pits stared blankly at him as skeletal hands gripped frantically at their throats, crushed bones signifying that they were beyond hope. Fearful visages staring at him, the life draining from their eyes as bullet wounds opened up their skulls, filled his peripheral vision. He watched them all because there was no escape. His day of reckoning had come.

As he fell to his knees, clutching frantically at his ears, squeezing his eyes so hard that he saw stars, he could feel the suction in the air around him signaling Death’s arrival to the festivities. He could feel her closing in on him, slowly circling, preparing to take what was rightfully hers. Even though he wanted to go peacefully, the ghosts of his past would not allow that luxury. All around him the keening howls became increasingly frenzied until he felt that his very soul was being ripped apart by the cacophony.

Throughout all of this Death approached him slowly, taking her time in claiming her quarry. He knew that this day was long overdue. It should have been the end for him all those years ago during the war. The fall from that train should have been his one and only date with the lady in the purple cloak. But the wicked hands of Fate had chosen to intervene. So despite the fact that he should have been a corpse in that God forsaken frozen wasteland, he had risen like an abomination.

Instead of going peacefully to his reward, he had become something evil. Despite the fact that he had evaded Death, he still served her. His subsequent years had been spent making countless offerings to her. He had served his sentence in HYDRA’s purgatory. Mindless, completely without an identity of his own, he had taken countless souls to their demise. Maybe these sacrifices he had offered up would propitiate Death.

He steeled his nerves and removed his hands from his ears, even as blood oozed from them and dripped down his neck. His eyes snapped open defiantly. There was no way he was going to cower with his eyes closed; he had done his penance. Even if Death did not agree, he would go out strong and proud. For too long his life and mind had not been his own. Now in his final hour, Bucky could finally stand up straight and accept his destiny as himself.

_

Steve stood outside the room pacing and raking his hands through his hair roughly. He could not believe this was happening. His best friend was just inside those doors, dying. And once again, the great and powerful Captain America couldn’t do anything to help him.

He could hear Dr. Cho and Tony as they worked to save Bucky. Steve had lost track of how long they had been in there. It drove him crazy that there was nothing he could do to help; instead he was relegated to waiting outside like a fretful spouse.

A hand landed on his shoulder, “Steve.”

Natasha didn’t need to say anything else. The precarious hold Steve had had over his composure slipped away easily. He slumped into her arms and sought comfort in his friend’s embrace. She rubbed her hand on his back and whispered calming words that Steve couldn’t understand in Russian. It didn’t take much for the tears to find their way out of Steve’s eyes.

It was bad enough to lose your best friend once. Now Steve was faced with losing his for a third time; both of them had effectively died decades ago and yet here they were. But Bucky had always been more than Steve’s best friend. The bond between them went back to the childhood they had shared in Brooklyn a lifetime ago. It had seen them through all of the worst struggles of Steve’s life. Bucky had been there when Steve’s mother died, and he had been there when they fought against the Nazis and HYDRA in the war. They were brothers.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adeline finds herself in a dangerous place with no escape...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning- The tags for sexual assault/rape/non-con apply to this chapter!  
> It's not very graphic, but if this is something you want to skip over stop at 'pain quickly overwhelmed it' and restart after the break.

_Then_

It was supposed to have been a simple mission. But then tensions had exploded. Before she had even had a chance to locate her target, the bombs in downtown had detonated causing a violent chain reaction. Riots and fighting had broken out immediately in the streets around the capital. Now she found herself in the midst of a warzone with no way out.

The limited intel that she had been able to gather said that the riots had spilled outside of the city limits and were now raging all around the country. She looked out over the street, watching the flames lick through the dust. Insurgents had taken over the streets and chaos reigned over the night. Violence lurked around every corner and in every shadow.

Even with her abilities, it was getting increasingly difficult to avoid the angry mobs. Earlier, when the fighting had first begun, she had heard the screams of women and the cries of their frightened children. Men had shouted in protest, attempting to protect their families. Now, when she looked at the streets she saw the corpses, large and small, littering the ashy roads. Blackened blood stains could be found in the most unexpected places. It was pure horror out there, and she was running out of places to hide.

In the beginning she had hoped that HYDRA would find a way to get her out of this hell. But as the days had continued marching past she had given up hope on any miraculous rescue. The worst part was that she was not properly armed for this kind of hostile environment. She had only been equipped for a simple track and report mission; no one had indicated that she might find herself in danger. Because of this, she had used up all of her ammunition in the first couple of days when the rebels had been the thickest.

Tonight she crawled along in the shadows. The crowded apartment blocks towered over her. Their facades were haunted old faces: cracks fanned out of the gaping black eyes. Doors on all the buildings she passed were either boarded up tight or hanging loosely off their rusty hinges. Trash from the looters littered the ground everywhere she walked, and she had to be careful to avoid it in case an IED lurked amongst the seemingly innocuous refuse.

Even though she saw no signs of life, just the shell of a city, Adeline felt as if she were being watched. Listening to her instincts had always served her well, and she tended towards the shadows in an attempt to keep hidden. Still, she felt the prickle of eyes on the back of her neck.

Her stomach growled again, reminding her of her current mission. It had been two days since she had eaten any food. Luckily, she had managed to find water to drink in an old apartment building she had hidden in during the day. The taps were still working in that building, so she had even taken the opportunity to attempt to wash herself somewhat. But, there had been no food left. Everyone had either taken it with them when they absconded or the rebels and looters had come through and helped themselves.

Her head ached hollowly and she felt her pulse beating inside the burn wound on her side and the gash on her left shoulder. Adeline was pretty sure that at least one of her ribs had cracked with the force of those first explosions. She had been caught off guard and found herself too close to the blast radius. All in all, her condition was less than ideal. Unfortunately, although she had been able to wash the wounds out with water she had not found any first aid supplies, and she was becoming worried about infection.

When she closed her eyes she could still feel the strange sense of weightlessness that had overtaken her in those moments. Some of the panic from that moment would seep back into her brain. Sleep had been nearly impossible. Even the bright sunlight of day was not enough to chase away the demons.

As she ducked down a shadowy alley to avoid the more open street, she felt the change in the air immediately. But she was too late to turn around. The impact of metal against the base of her skull sent her to her knees. Pain exploded all over her body; the wounds in her shoulder and abdomen screamed at the sudden movement. Stars flashed behind her eyes from the blow to her skull. Adeline felt a brief spark of panic, but the pain quickly overwhelmed it.

She gasped as she struggled to get on her hands and knees. A kick from a boot sent her sprawling again on the dirt, and she heard dark laughter above her. When she finally rolled over to see who her attackers were, she was met by the sight of four rebels. Their faces covered with bandanas, and high-caliber weapons in their dirt-streaked arms.

“Hold her down,” one of the men sneered.

Before coming to this country, she had learned the language, and she understood the man’s command. She knew how bad this was. Adeline felt the rough treads of boots heavy on her wrists. In spite of herself she grimaced. There would be no one coming to save her and she was currently incapable of putting up a fight, especially against four armed men.

Greedy hands sent flares of repulsion through her as they ran roughly over her body searching for weapons.

“What is a nice girl like you doing out here in a place like this?” the man who seemed to be the leader sneered as he reached out and brazenly cupped her breast.

Slowly, he reached out and touched the hollow of her collarbone with the point of a blade. She lay frozen as he used the blade to cut through the buttons of her shirt leaving her bra exposed. The men hooted in lecherous delight. Her stomach roiled unpleasantly, and she felt a tear escape as the man used his other hand to pull the shirt off her back. He and his friends laughed cruelly at her expense.

The man straightened and looked down on her obviously enjoying her discomfort. He looked straight into her eyes before lashing out with his boot and kicking her burned side. She gasped at the burst of agony that ripped through her. Her body defensively curled in on itself. Dust scratched at the bare skin of her back and torso.

“What is that?” one of the men kicked at the point on her back between her shoulder blades.

“A tattoo,” another one commented.

“Tattoo?” she felt the leader lean over her to examine the HYDRA insignia tattooed on her flesh. He spit on her skin, “Whore,” he scoffed.

She tried to ignore the sudden rain of saliva from the man’s comrades following his example. A wet spot blossomed on her cheek and she shuddered. If she had had any food in her belly, it certainly would have come back out by now.

Time passed sluggishly. Trapped in a nightmare, there was nothing that Adeline could do as the men proceeded to kick and beat at her with their weapons. Her only reprieve was the brief moments of unconsciousness before a slap or a cruel waste of water would bring her back. Tears no longer fell from her eyes, everything was just numb. The only thing she was aware of was the unbearable fire burning through her body.

The button of her pants was undone and she squeezed her eyes shut as a harsh hand touched her. Apparently they were done beating her. She wished they would just beat her to death. That would be better than this; anything would be better than this.

She made an involuntary whimper at the intrusiveness and was awarded with a sharp crack to her skull that sent her into darkness.

_

Adeline felt strange. She could feel the confines of her body, but it seemed that she was outside of them somehow. Slowly, noises of a struggle reached her ears. Even though she tried, she could not open her eyes to see what was going on. Then a vague recollection came to her, and she was thankful that her eyes remained shut. But, she realized that she couldn’t feel any hands on her body anymore. Before she could focus on this, the thought slipped away again.

She forced herself to concentrate more. A thwack of metal against bone reached her ears. It didn’t make sense, though, because she didn’t feel any new pain. Instead she heard the shouts of men and the wet sound of a blade leaving flesh. Finally her eyes flew open and a strange scene greeted her bleary eyes.

Around her two of the rebels were laying on the ground, and she couldn’t be sure through the fog of her mind, but they seemed to be dead. A vicious growl sounded out of her line of sight. Shots rang out and then a gun suddenly fell down next to her face. The barrel was bent at an incredible angle that she couldn’t make sense of. Soon the gun was joined by an arm.

Her eyes drifted closed again. Heaviness once again descended on her limbs and she slipped away from the disturbing hallucination.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the attack on Adeline...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like twice as long as any of the others ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Adeline awoke she found herself lying inside an unfamiliar room. Her mind struggled to tell her what had happened. Everything felt fuzzy around the edges. She gave up when a sharp pounding began inside of her skull. Almost immediately, her whole body lit up with fiery pain. A weak groan escaped her throat.

  
Rustling came from another corner of the dim space. Suddenly a figure loomed over her, and she reflexively shrunk away from the masculine form making a strangled sound of protest. He didn’t make any movements, just stood over her.

  
Finally, the trembling subsided enough that she could focus more on the stranger. She realized with a jolt of recognition that it was the mysterious HYDRA agent: the one with the empty eyes who spoke with an American accent. Her body relaxed slightly, but she still felt a bundle of fear in her core.

  
His hair was longer now. It reached almost to his shoulders. She blearily took in this fact before she realized that he was wearing a tank top and one of his arms was entirely made of metal. Adeline took stock of this development, but found that she couldn’t be bothered with feeling surprise. When he met her gaze, he appeared to be looking at a stranger. This was puzzling to her, but she couldn’t focus long enough to truly dissect its meaning.

  
_

  
The next time that Adeline’s eyes opened it felt as if a fog had been lifted from her brain. She sat up stiffly and looked around her. It was dark, but she could make out that she was in a small house of some sort. Her eyes swept over the small space where her cot was, the dingy curtain of fabric hanging over what was probably a crude bathroom, and alighted on the small kitchen.

  
Before she could stand up a shape detached from the shadows in a corner of the room. Her breath caught in her throat, and she froze in place. When the figure drew closer to her she remembered who she was with and what had happened.

  
Her eyes slid down to take in her own appearance. She was wearing a large black turtleneck that must have belonged to her fellow HYDRA agent. The pants she had been wearing before were still covering her legs, albeit a bit worse for wear.

  
Next she lifted the fabric to look at the wound on her torso. It was crudely bandaged, but she could tell that he had cleaned her up. She noticed that her entire midsection was covered in bruises. Hesitant to remove the shirt, even though she knew that was ridiculous, she reached up to pat at the sore spot on her head.

  
“Don’t touch it,” the man’s voice seemed overly loud in the small space.

  
Adeline returned her hands to her lap, folding them awkwardly. She felt strangely shy around this man. Sure she had worked with him a few times before, but they had never had a real conversation. He had never given any indication of recognition for her when they worked together, which had always bothered her. For all intents and purposes he was a stranger to her, and she knew nothing about him.

  
A cup appeared in front of her, and she looked up to meet his eyes as she accepted the water. It felt delicious sliding down her throat, and she drank it greedily. When she was finished he handed her a piece of bread with a small hunk of cheese and took the glass away to refill its contents. Her stomach growled longingly at the scent of food, and she savored the taste on her tongue.

  
When she was finished eating and drinking her second cup of water they sat in awkward silence.

  
“What is your name?”

  
The man was silent.

  
“My name is Adeline,” she offered.

  
He looked at her curiously, “You’re Belladonna?” his voice held a question.

  
Technically, he was right. The memory of the name’s origin left a sour feeling in her stomach. She remembered the commander petting her hair and declaring that she would be his Belladonna: beautiful and deadly.

  
“Yes,” she said slowly, “But my real name is Adeline.”

  
He said nothing.

  
“Thank you for helping me.”

  
He looked at her with those unreadable eyes of his. But again he didn’t respond. Instead he stood up and refilled her water cup again, bringing back a second cup for himself this time.

  
She graciously accepted the drink, “Thank you.”

  
He nodded stiffly taking a sip of his own water.

  
Her eyes kept slipping to his metal arm. It was strangely beautiful. The way that the mechanics worked seamlessly as he lifted the cup to his lips to drink was so graceful. She realized that she was staring and looked away.

  
For the first time she realized the significance of the silence.

  
“Where are we? It is quiet.”

  
He looked past her towards the sole window in the space looking into the darkness of the sky.

  
“We are safe here,” was all he said.

  
Even though she had very little reason to actually believe him, she found that she did. This man was essentially a stranger to her, a foreign man with empty eyes. However, they wore the same mark of HYDRA that spoke of their deeply ingrained allegiance. Whether she liked it or not, HYDRA was all she knew anymore. He was the closest thing to a trustworthy person she could ask for. And strangely enough, she realized she did trust him.

  
_

  
As the sunlight had slowly dwindled the next afternoon, Adeline had sat alternately looking out the only window in the space and watching the man. He had been pacing restlessly off and on for what had to have been hours. She noticed that his skin was glistening with sweat. Occasionally he would stop and sink down cradling his head in his hands as if he were in pain.

  
She was unsure of what to do. Normally, she would have addressed any concerns about a fellow agent’s well-being head-on. But with this man everything was different. He didn’t take well to conversation, always responding with the fewest possible words if he answered at all. Something told her that he would not want to be touched, either.

  
So instead of doing anything useful, she surreptitiously kept an eye on him via her peripheral vision. She would tense whenever he looked in her direction. But his eyes seemed unfocused, and he never said anything to her. Obviously something wasn’t right, but Adeline had no idea how to handle the situation.

  
As she was ruminating on the issue she heard a loud clatter. She jumped up from her seat and whirled around. The metal armed man was lying on the floor, his back arching unnaturally. Panic coursed through her as she stared at the prone form on the floor.

  
As she watched in frozen horror, his lips began to turn slightly blue What if he died? But suddenly he began to jerk and spasm erratically. For what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, Adeline watched as his head, legs, and elbows moved as if at the hands of an invisible puppeteer. Finally, he released a deep breath and was still.

  
After waiting for a moment, Adeline scooted over and took his head in her lap. He was still sweaty, but his cheeks were returning to their normal color. She sat silently beside his head watching his chest slowly rise and fall. It seemed like ages before he slowly blinked awake.

  
He looked around blearily before seeming to realize that he wasn’t alone. Abruptly, he jerked up from Adeline’s lap. As quickly as he’d risen, though, he fell back down. His hands, one warm flesh and one cool metal, pressed to his eyes and he groaned softly.

  
“Shhh,” Adeline petted his hair softly.

  
She could feel the tension in his body, but she continued to stroke his hair and murmur quietly to him. Eventually she felt him begin to relax in her arms. They stayed that way for a while, but finally he sighed and rose from her lap to sit facing her.

  
He sat quietly for a minute, kneading his flesh hand against his forehead.

  
When he finally looked up at her, she could see the bleariness had passed. He was once again alert, albeit completely unreadable. They sat in silence staring at each other. Neither of them seemed to know what to say.

  
Eventually he rose from his spot on the ground. Adeline hurried to follow suit in case he needed further help. But he seemed to be back to normal. He walked over to the sink, slightly stiff but with strong strides. She watched him drain his cup a few times.

  
He set the cup down on the counter and leaned down to splash water on his face. Adeline watched him quietly. His brown hair was mussed and his hands trembled ever so slightly. She could hear him taking deep breaths. When he turned towards her again those unfathomable blue-gray eyes held something indistinguishable, but decidedly vulnerable. Neither of them said a word as they stood in the now dark room regarding one another.

  
_

  
Her heart pounded wildly. The men were back. She had heard the screams; it was happening again. Or maybe it had never stopped, but her mind had conjured up an elaborate hallucination to spare her the trauma. No, that wasn’t right; the man with the metal arm had saved her.

  
She drew in a deep breath and took stock of her surroundings. A nest of blankets on the floor next to her cot moved, and she nearly screamed. But then a glint of metal caught the light, and she realized it was just the man with the metal arm. He did not look peaceful in sleep, his expression was twisted and she could see from the dim moonlight that a sheen of sweat covered his face.

  
Suddenly the arm lashed out again and she heard him muttering the word ‘no’ repeatedly. A pang of sympathy shot through her heart. She knew what it was like to not find peace in sleep. Nightmares constantly plagued her, too. His face was like a mirror of what hers usually showed deep in the darkest parts of the night.

  
As she sat studying his prone form he shifted violently and let loose a guttural scream. Adeline jumped in surprise. The sound tickled something in her memory, and she realized almost instantly that she recognized it. Those nights that seemed so long ago when she had been awoken by the sound of screams from inside the HYDRA compound, she had been listening to this man.

  
At her small yelp he sat up abruptly, his eyes wildly casing the room. He stared at her for at least a minute before some of the wildness left his eyes and his composure began to return. Once again, the unreadable mask slipped over his face. Any trace of the emotions or pain that he had been experiencing in the world of dreams was hidden away.  
They sat eyeing each other warily for what could have been seconds or hours. Finally he turned away from her and settled back into the pile of blankets he had set up on the floor. She lay back on her cot. But she didn’t fall asleep and, judging by his rigid posture, neither did her fellow agent.  



	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can the team save Bucky?

_Now_

“He needs a transfusion,” Tony said without preamble.

“A transfusion of what?” Clint asked.

“Blood.”

“But?” Natasha prompted.

Tony sighed, “But… not just any blood.”

“What does that mean?” Sam questioned.

Tony made a noncommittal noise, gesturing vaguely. “It’s complicated.”

“So simplify it for us,” Steve snapped.

“Ugh,” Tony huffed. “There’s a sort of poison in his bloodstream. It’s not strictly organic, but,” he glanced up when Sam cleared his throat, “Right, you don’t care about that. The point is that in order to flush out the toxin we either need an antidote, which we don’t have, or blood to perform a transfusion.”

“I’m not seeing the problem here,” Steve scowled. “Bucky and I have the same blood type.”

“Well,” Tony drew out the word, “That’s not good enough. The stuff in your blood and in his blood is different. There’s no way to know how the two would react if combined. And blood from a normal human isn’t strong enough,” Tony made a face, trailing off.

“And?” 

“ _And_ we need a familial match- a direct descendant, preferably. That’s our best bet here. So unless your boy has some secret children…” Tony shrugged.

Tony’s explanation was met with silence. Steve’s jaw clenched, a complex array of emotions flitting through his eyes. He made a frustrated noise, moving as though he wanted to punch something. Ultimately he just pulled at his hair and cast a desperate look at his friends. When no one spoke, he turned abruptly and stormed out of the room.

-

Natasha had called a meeting. It seemed that she was making progress with translating the Russian parts of Bucky’s mysterious journal. Clint and Sam stood around the table when Steve arrived, listening to Natasha explain something. When he cleared his throat, they all looked up and instantly quieted.

“What have you got?” Steve tried to keep from sounding too eager.

“Some of it seems to be written in a code. Stark’s working on that,” Natasha began, smoothing a hand over the cover of Bucky’s journal. “There’s a lot of stuff about the Winter Soldier Program. Steve, he wasn’t the only one,” Natasha looked up.

Steve felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut. “ _No_ ,” he whispered.

“There’re more of them?” Clint’s eyebrows rose dramatically.

Natasha pursed her lips, “Apparently.”

“So is Adeline another one of these Winter Soldiers?” Sam questioned.

“I don’t think so,” Natasha spoke carefully. “He mentions something else, Project Siren,” she turned to a page covered in Cyrillic that Steve had no hope of understanding.

“Project Siren?” Clint looked at the others, “What the hell is that?”

“It seems to have been a program that HYDRA began during WWII. They basically kidnapped German women who fit the Aryan ideal and used a bastardization of the serum on them. Apparently, the serum was supposed to enhance them in some way, make them into the perfect breeding. From what I can tell, only one of their test subjects survived.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Clint muttered.

“You think the survivor was this Adeline?” Sam asked.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“Twins,” Steve murmured. “What?” Clint squinted at Steve.

“You said they were meant to be breeding stock, the perfect Aryan females?” he raised his eyes to look at Natasha who nodded.

“Oh shit,” Sam breathed.

Steve exchanged a look with Sam before addressing Clint and Natasha, “What if they did use her as breeding stock?”

“That’s a pretty big leap, Steve,” Natasha frowned.

A growl slipped out of Steve’s throat, “I know that! But what if he knew what was wrong? What if he knew that he needed blood from a descendant,” Steve’s voice cracked slightly on the last word, but he cleared his throat and continued. “And what if he was tracking that possibility?” He couldn’t bring himself to look at the others for fear of seeing pity in their faces.

“I mean, it’s _possible_ ,” Sam hedged.

“But it’s unlikely,” Natasha cut in with a note of finality.

“Isn’t that kind of our specialty?” Steve retorted. “We basically exist because of the unlikely.”

Sam and Clint exchanged considering looks. Natasha stared at the journal, not revealing any indication of her feelings.

“He’s not wrong,” Clint shrugged.

Although Natasha’s face remained carefully blank, Steve knew her well enough to see that she wasn’t buying it. Steve felt the scrutiny of her gaze on his skin. When he looked up her eyes had softened slightly. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Steve. But I’ll keep working. There’s some stuff in German that I haven’t started on yet,” she paused, running a bright red fingernail along the spine of the diary, “And I’ll tell Stark that the coded parts are a priority.”

Steve felt himself relax ever-so-slightly, “Thank you,” he held Natasha’s eyes.

She nodded once before shutting the diary and tucking it away. “I’ll let you know what I find,” she said as she exited the room.

“I’m going to go see if I can help with that,” Clint pointed towards where the door was still swinging shut.

That left Sam and Steve alone in the conference room. Sam moved until he could lay a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “How about we go down to the gym and you can kick my ass?”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, OK,” he agreed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaline learns more about her mysterious savior.

_Then_

Even in the countryside, traveling was hazardous. Slowly the two HYDRA agents were making their way towards safer borders where they could arrange an extraction. It had already been nearly two weeks since they had abandoned the first cottage they had stayed in. The weather was getting increasingly cold, and the land itself was becoming more and more difficult to traverse. Still, they were making progress and neither one of them complained.

Adaline had been getting more comfortable around the quiet and nameless HYDRA agent who had saved her. They spent all of their time together, after all. Mostly they just traveled in companionable silence, but sometimes Adaline caught the other man making faces as though he were trying to recall something that was just out of his reach. Occasionally while they were walking, she would also catch him peering at her from under a furrowed brow. She always pretended she didn’t notice.

They were walking again today. It was cold, and snow had started to accumulate on the ground. Without warning Adaline’s foot caught on a divot in the path and she pitched forward. Her hands flew out in front of her scrabbling for something to grab ahold of. She felt an arm reach out and catch her.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

As usual her companion stayed quiet. This time, though, she could see something in his usually inscrutable eyes. He was wearing that slightly perplexed look again. She traced his gaze to their hands that were now clasped together. His eyes met hers again before he turned his attention back to the road.

As they set back out, Adeline kept her hand in his.

-

Adaline stoked the small campfire, staring unfocusedly into the flames. It was dark- getting darker every minute. The temperature was falling along with the light, and Adaline could see her breath puffing out in tiny clouds. She snuggled more deeply into the heavy turtleneck. They didn’t have much by way of winter clothing, but they had managed to pick up some stray things during their travels from abandoned farmhouses.

A rustling sound alerted Adaline that her companion had returned. She smiled slightly, knowing that he made the sound only for her benefit. Both of them could move with complete silence even in this terrain. He met her gaze, took in her smile, and then turned his attention to the dead hare he was carrying.

The weeks passed, and things slowly began to go back to normal. There were missions again, and Steve found himself away from the Avengers base. It was easier to put aside his worry and frustration over Bucky’s unchanged state when he was out in the field. And if the missions led to them dismantling HYDRA cells, well that was just an added bonus. He sat down across from her, skinning the animal with efficient hands. The silence between them no longer felt so oppressive to Adaline. She understood that it wasn’t personal. Still, she wished sometimes for someone to talk to. It had been such a very long time since she had last had a real conversation.

By now it had probably been going on forty years since HYDRA had fist taken her. There were many years, decades even, that were completely lost to her. Not long after returning from France after the war, HYDRA had put her under and stored her body in a cryo-cell. Thankfully she couldn’t remember her time in the cell, but it was so disorienting to awaken and find that years had passed seemingly overnight. She had been dormant all through the fifties, most of the sixties had been spent in the field, and the seventies so far had been a mix of in and out. Back in the city she had seen a few newspapers. It was now 1978.

“They call me Winter Soldier.”

The voice startled Adaline and she looked up curiously.

“I don’t think that was always my name,” he added in a lower voice.

“Do you remember a different name?” Adaline kept her voice as gentle as she could.

“No.” He was quiet for a few moments. “They take everything away. Whenever things start to come back, they take it away. It is necessary to make me as efficient as possible.”

Adaline felt lost for words as she realized what he was saying. The man, the Winter Soldier, had had his memories erased. She had thought HYDRA had taken everything from her, but now she realized they could have taken more.

“You remind me of someone, I think,” the Winter Soldier spoke again. “There was someone once…” his forehead creased in concentration. “They had blonde hair and blue eyes.”

Adaline waited for more, but the Winter Soldier said nothing else. She digested the information he had shared; it was the most he had ever said to her. In fact, she was willing to bet he hadn’t spoken that much in a long while. He had the air about him of someone unused to hearing their own voice.

“That looks good,” Adaline pointed to the meat the Winter Soldier had begun to roast over their fire.

He nodded stiffly, not taking his eyes off his task. There was something in his expression that Adaline couldn’t quite decipher. It almost looked as though he were debating something internally.

Finally he spoke, “Do you remember?”

Adaline felt her heart drop a little bit. “Yes,” she said.

He nodded again, as if that was the answer he had expected. They remained quiet for the rest of the evening. There was a small cave that the Winter Soldier had discovered while he was hunting, and they moved there, stamping out the fire and covering up their tracks carefully. As Adaline spread out the blankets they had on the cave floor, the Winter Soldier went about setting up traps to alert them of anyone who got too close.

When he was finally done he slipped into the cave. Adaline was already lying on the ground. He took off his heavy coat, stripping down to his tank top and laid behind Adaline, pulling her against his chest. She tried not to shiver; the soldier was always cold, but their combined body heat was still better than the alternative. Eventually she felt herself drift off, her dreams haunted by the memories that were always with her.

-

They had come out of nowhere. Suddenly, while the Winter Soldier was off hunting, Adaline had found herself surrounded by a group of scruffy looking men. The way they had grinned lasciviously at her had made her stomach turn. Unfortunately for them, they had sorely misjudged the situation.

Adaline rose slowly, holding her arms in the air in a position of surrender. The men grinned at each other, making lewd remarks and laughing. She bit her lip, glancing between the men fearfully. One of the men, apparently their leader, stepped forward and moved to grab her arm. Carefully keeping her eyes trained on the men, she moved her foot so that the man stumbled.

Before the other men even had time to react, she had broken their leader’s neck. One of the quicker men moved forward with a wicked hunting knife, and Adaline shoved his dead comrade in front of him at the last moment. The blade sunk into the already dead man’s stomach, and both figures fell down. Adaline used the opportunity to yank the knife out of her boot and slash the second man’s throat.

Another man had made the mistake of moving to support his comrade. Adaline crouched, not taking her eyes off the man. He looked terrified, but a yell of encouragement from his two remaining buddies led him to lunge forward. Using his own momentum against him, Adaline managed to wrap her thighs around the man’s neck. Clumsy hands grappled blindly, trying to loosen her thighs. The movements quickly became weaker and weaker until he stopped fighting altogether.

Adaline went to roll of the man when something dug into her neck, tightening and cutting into her skin. She struggled, reaching up and finding a garrote around her neck. One of the remaining men had managed to sneak up behind her. There were hands patting her down, and she realized that the two men left standing had teamed up. That was smart of them. Still, she managed to break the wrist of the man searching her.

“Ow! You stupid bitch!” the man exclaimed.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol. Adaline felt her heart-rate increase. She had missed the gun when she took a visual inventory of the weapons her attackers were carrying. As the man clicked off the safety and raised the gun to shoot, Adaline held unnaturally still. Just as he released the trigger, Adaline jerked to the side with all her strength. It worked as she had hoped, and the garrote loosened around her throat as a strangled cry came from the man behind her.

A look of horror crossed the gunman’s face, and Adaline didn’t waste the opportunity. She was on her feet, wrapping the garrote tightly around his neck in the space of a single breath. He made a strange gurgling sound, dropping the gun and clawing at his throat. Adaline responded by pulling harder. There was a wet crack and the man went limp, falling unceremoniously to the snowy ground.

Breathing heavily, Adaline looked around at the scattered corpses of the five men. She should search their bodies for useful supplies. Instead she felt herself drop to the ground. When she looked down she realized that her hands were shaking ever so slightly. Images of a different night, in a different place and time flashed through her mind.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before the Winter Soldier returned. When he did she didn’t acknowledge him. He moved quickly, until he was kneeling in front of her. A hand under her chin coaxed her to look into the man’s eyes. Unexpectedly, she saw concern in the stormy gaze. It was so ludicrous that this man would feel concern for anyone at all that Adaline felt a giggle escape. And suddenly she was laughing hysterically, and the Winter Soldier was rocking her and hushing her. The feeling of a hand in her hair and an arm wrapped around her securely slowly helped her to relax. Before she fell asleep, she remembered another time when she had once done this for the man holding her.


End file.
